


Preparing for Sunset

by msraven



Series: Trope Bingo Round 3 Blackout [16]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Western, First Time, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 10:46:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1741922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msraven/pseuds/msraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Looking at them now, as they playfully jostle each other on the short walk into town, you still wouldn't know they were the best riders on this side of the Mississippi. </p><p>A Pony Express AU to fill the AU: Historical square on my trope_bingo card.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Preparing for Sunset

**Author's Note:**

> Written fairly quickly and mostly un-beta'd, so all mistakes are mine.
> 
> This borrows quite a bit from [The Young Riders](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0096732/?ref_=nv_sr_1), a show I loved and watched religiously when it was on, but I don't think you need to have watched it to understand this fic.
> 
> Quick info blip from Wikipedia on the Pony Express: The Pony Express was a mail service delivering messages, newspapers, mail, and small packages from St. Joseph, Missouri, across the Great Plains, over the Rocky Mountains and the Sierra Nevada to Sacramento, California, by horseback, using a series of relay stations. From April 3, 1860, to October 1861, it became the West's most direct means of east–west communication before the telegraph was established and was vital for tying the new state of California with the rest of the country.

* * *

  


Phil can't help looking at his little rag tag team with pride as they walk into the town dance. He'd been skeptical when Fury had given him the challenge of running one of the smaller Pony Express stations, saddling him with the most inexperienced riders who had applied for the job. Everyone expected them to quit or get fired within a week. Instead, Phil's little group of misfits had banded together, supporting each other through the rough, early days and eventually earning the respect of all their detractors—Phil included. 

Looking at them now, as they playfully jostle each other on the short walk into town, you still wouldn't know they were the best riders on this side of the Mississippi. 

There's Tony Stark, loud and brash, heir to some huge fortune that he refuses to talk about and whose cocky exterior hides a heart of gold. Stark's best friend, Bruce, is the exact opposite. Quiet and shy, it would be easy to overlook Bruce Banner as he sits in Stark's shadow—until you got him on a horse. The two had come in together, Stark bristling with protective indignation when everyone had looked at the much smaller Bruce in disbelief. Stark had nudged Bruce onto a horse and he'd proven why he, more than anyone else, deserved a job. Bruce is easily their fastest rider and likely the fastest rider in the West. Stark himself is barely able to stay in the saddle for his rides, but nobody is going to suggest breaking them up.

A girlish giggle rings out amongst the ruckus of male voices and Phil smiles. Nate, or Natalie as she's dressed this evening, was less of a surprise than the others probably believe. Small and fierce and hell on a horse, Phil had known from the beginning that "Nate" was a woman, but didn't see any reason to deny her a job. She more than held her own against the men and he never doubted her ability to protect herself. A lesson that poor Steve took much too long to learn.

Phil watches as Steve wraps an arm around Natalie—proprietary, if not protective—and smiles again when she leans into his side. Steve is as stalwart and dependable as they come, arriving at the station with a new horse he'd won by letting a very large man beat the tar out of him. That same perseverance had served Steve well as he'd learned how to become, not just a horseman, but a real rider. It was Steve who'd first learned of Nate's true identity and Steve who'd eventually stolen Natalie's heart. They'd had a rough road, with Steve's Southern upbringing clashing with Natalie's fierce independence, but now seemed solid in their relationship.

"Let us be merry!" booms Thor as he throws open the doors of the barn, striding inside majestically as the others follow laughingly behind.

Thor is from somewhere in Europe, exactly where, Phil still hasn't figured out. He'd come to the States and out West in search of his brother, only to be shunned and sent away. Thor had chosen to stay in the hope, however futile, of his brother reuniting with him. None of them had the heart to tell Thor that his brother is quickly earning the reputation of being a ruthless bandit and murderer.

"Well this should be a hoot," Clint says dryly as he steps up next to Phil.

Phil turns to the last of his riders with a raised eyebrow. "Dances not your thing, Barton?"

"People aren't my thing." Clint shrugs and walks into the barn despite his words, making a beeline toward the food table as Phil watches him go bemusedly.

Clint is… Clint. There is no easy way to describe Clint Barton—a little older than the others and more experienced with the dark sides of life. He is, in equal moments, quieter than Bruce and as boisterous as Tony and Thor combined. Clint's skill and speed with a gun is unparalleled, his loyalty to his friends equally unquestionable. Of all of them, there is no one Phil would rather have by his side and watching his back in a fight, than Clint. They are, somewhat surprisingly, friends and Phil keeps the true depth of his feelings toward the younger man locked in a box and buried deep.

"Good evening to you, Marshall," a voice purrs and Phil looks to his right to find Camilla Reyes batting her eyelashes up at him.

Camilla is new to town—a widower—and has, for some unfathomable reason, set her sights on Phil as her next husband.

"Ms. Reyes," Phil replies, his voice and nod polite, if not welcoming.

Camilla looks around the room and wrinkles her nose in disdain before placing her hand, uninvited, on Phil's arm. "This is… quaint."

"Everyone seems to having a good time."

She looks back up at Phil with a smile that Phil can only describe as predatory. "I'm sure this is nothing like the big, society balls you're used to."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Come now, Marshall, don't be coy." Camilla's fake, tinkling laugh sounds like nails scratched along a schoolroom blackboard to Phil's ears. "I have it on good authority that you're one of the Coulsons from greater Chicago."

Phil can't hold back the laughter that startles out of him. So this is why she'd been pursuing him. "I'm not sure who you've been talking to, but while I am from Chicago and my name is Coulson, I am not in any way connected to the family you think I am or their money."

The last part isn't quite true. Phil is about four times removed from _the_ Coulsons of Chicago and has a small inheritance tucked away for when he gets tired of people shooting at him. He doubts that's what Camilla is after and pats her hand on his arm consolingly.

"I'm sorry you've been misled." A movement catches the corner of Phil's eye and he extracts his arm from her grip. "Have a good evening."

Phil quickly makes his way across the room and out the side door he'd seen Clint slip through, eager to share his amusement at Camilla's expense. All humor fades, however, when he sees Clint leaning against the wall of the barn and staring forlornly up at the night sky.

"Clint?" Clint startles and Phil frowns. Clint is typically hyper-vigilant about his surroundings. "Is everything okay?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm fine. Just… people, you know? I needed a minute."

Phil steps closer and leans a shoulder against the wall next to Clint. "What are you thinking about?"

A knot of fear forms in the pit of Phil's stomach when he sees the minute tensing of Clint's shoulders, a tell-tale sign that the rider is considering lying to him. 

"Leaving," Clint responds honestly and Phil sucks in a sharp breath.

"What? Why? I thought you liked it here?" _With me_ , Phil doesn't add.

"I do, but I ain't never been the type to hang around one place too long. We all know the time's coming for us to go. We all see them telegraph lines going up, Stark's itching to go to war, Steve and Nat'll probably get married soon, and Thor got news of his brother heading back this way. Maybe… maybe it's better to leave when it's my choice to go."

Clint isn't wrong. Even Phil has to admit that the signs are all there. Their time together is drawing to a close, the outside world encroaching and pulling apart the family they've created. He'd just never imagined that he'd lose Clint in the process.

"You're right," Phil says eventually and Clint's shoulders droop. It's that, more than anything else, that forces Phil into voicing his own truth. "I just always assumed that, when we left, we'd leave together."

Clint's head whips around, his eyes filled with hope for a brief instant before he shakes his head. "Don't think Camilla'll want me hanging around all the time."

"Who said anything about Camilla coming along?"

"But… she seems pretty smitten with you, sir. She made you laugh."

"At, not with," Phil points out. "Camilla was much more smitten with the prospect of a large bank account than she was with me. A bank account I don't have, thank goodness."

"Oh. Well, she's beautiful and you're you, so I'm sure you could get her to change her mind."

Phil shakes his head and decides that it's now or never. "I don't want to change her mind. I'm not interested in that woman… or any woman."

"Oh. _Oh._ "

Clint's mouth falls open a little in shock, but he doesn't spit in disgust or turn his back on Phil. Instead, a flicker of hope reemerges in Clint's eyes and Phil really wishes he could pull him in for a kiss. There are, however, still laws against this kind of thing and, even if there weren't, Phil doesn't think the townsfolk would take kindly to two men kissing in public. Phil nods toward the street.

"I was going to head back and try some of that whiskey Fury sent. Join me?"

Clint's smile is slow and breathtaking. "I'd like that."

They walk unhurriedly back to the station, both of them content to let a comfortable silence settle between them. Phil's cottage is much smaller than the main house where Maria, the station's cook and caretaker, lives, but it's more than comfortable enough for a man used to sleeping on the ground. It's also well apart from the riders' bunk house, which is the most important thing tonight. He walks over to the fire he'd left smoldering and stokes it back to life before pouring two glasses of whiskey and bringing them over to the small sofa where Clint is waiting.

"Thanks."

"My pleasure."

They sit in silence for a while, sipping their drinks, and then Clint knocks back the rest of his glass and places it on the table.

"What you said out there, about not being interested in women," Clint says softly, looking down at his hands. "Does that mean you're…"

"Interested in men? Yes."

Clint looks up, eyes wide. "Are you…"

"Interested in you? Very much, yes."

"Oh."

Phil smiles and sets his own glass down, edging closer to Clint on the couch and reaching out to cup his jaw. "You can stop me at any time, Clint."

Phil leans forward slowly, giving Clint ample time to pull away, but he doesn't move. Clint's eyes widen a fraction more before fluttering closed as their lips meet. His lips are a little chapped beneath Phil's and they yield without restraint into the kiss. Phil means to go slow—he doesn't know how new this is for Clint—but then Clint melts into him with a sigh, and his tenuous control breaks. 

He moves his hand to the back of Clint's neck, burying it in the rider's soft hair, and angling them so that Phil can properly plunder his mouth. Clint groans and opens up to him easily, their tongues sliding together as Phil pulls their chests flush.

"Phil," Clint gasps when they break for air. " _Phil_."

"What do you want, Clint?" Phil asks as he leaves a trail of sucking kisses along Clint's throat.

Clint grips at Phil's shoulders, back arching into the contact. "You. Please, Phil."

Phil pulls back to look down at Clint, finding him flushed with kiss-swollen lips, eyes blown wide and needy. He looks beautiful and wanton and vulnerable and Phil knows he'll never get enough.

"I'm going to hell," Phil mutters as he stands and brings Clint with him, propelling them toward the far side of the room and his bed. 

"Not without me," Clint fires back and pulls impatiently at Phil's clothes.

They are wearing an unfortunate amount of layers and only manage to remove enough to expose bare chests and aching cocks before tumbling onto the bed together. Phil trails his lips and fingers lovingly over Clint's chest before moving up and grinding their hips together. He watches in fascination as Clint comes apart beneath him, strong hands gripping at Phil's biceps and his neck arching beautifully as he comes in long stripes against his belly. The sight is enough to bring Phil over the edge and he collapses, spent, over Clint.

Neither of them are inclined to move, but reason wins out and Phil eventually lifts himself up, eliciting a small noise of protest from Clint.

"I'll be right back," he promises, kissing Clint's chin before going in search for something to clean them up with.

Phil prods a languid Clint into removing a few more layers of clothing—enough to sleep comfortably—before following suit and settling back on the bed next to him. He's glad that there is no one around to see how goofily happy his smile is when Clint immediately rolls into him with a contented sigh.

As ecstatic as he is in this moment, Phil can't keep concerns of the outside world from infringing on his thoughts. With the country at war, it's only a matter of time before they're embroiled in the conflict. He can already see divisions forming between the townsfolk, including his riders, and there is no telling what that will mean for Phil and Clint. The future scares him and he tightens his hold around the young man in his arms. Phil may not be able to predict their future, but he knows that he'll do everything he can to protect this new happiness that they've found. 

"I'm keeping you," Phil says into Clint's hair, surprising them both with the force of his possessiveness. 

Clint laughs and wraps his arm around Phil's waist. "Damn right, you are."

_fin_


End file.
